“Love is our response to our highest values—and can be nothing else.” – Atlas Shrugged
I love you.
I cannot say them, to a human being, and the few times when I’ve muttered them to a man, I did not mean them. It felt like chalk existed in my mouth; or rather, for those of us holding platinum membership to The Bulimic Mafia, a big, fat, blueberry-glazed donut (or three), mid binge.
I wanted my fucking donut, not to share it with someone else. Because, as I now see it, he wasn’t the right one. None of them were right.
“You are so sweet, adorable, energetic, positive, funny, cute, smart, passionate, sexy, polite, crazy, weird, lovable, and we click in so many ways.”
This is why, on Friday, Sir Oscar claims to have loved me, in response to my third degree.
So I broke up with him.
Can’t say that I didn’t try. Hell, I tried in 2007. And again in 2013. Each time, his “I love you’s” and my fake replies have made me into a fraud. Being fraudulent is simply not acceptable. Here is our photograph, from 2007.
For the last few days, I’ve searched my heart, wondering of why I cannot say those words to another human being, especially to a man willing to give me the world. Even to my sister, it’s “I heart you.” To my parents, “Love you!” The “I” just makes it completely and utterly awkward. It’s not that I don’t love my family, it’s rather that I feel odd living and breathing my highest values in their presence because our principles do not align.
During this process of dating and subsequently ending the relationship with Sir Oscar, I’ve had a gorgeous support system. The girls who have become my Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha. The girls of NicoleAndGwendolyn.com. Whether or not they realise it, because of their existence, I’ve felt like a girl walking the streets of New York, chatting with her girlfriends about Aidan. Discussing his perfect qualities, but admitting that he was NOT the one. Yes, Sir Oscar was my Aidan. And Sir Oscar, despite the shit that you’ve written on my Facebook page, and despite your nasty text messages, I shall, indeed, see you as my Aidan forever. An extreme compliment.
But during those email exchanges with my girlfriends, including the ones of the past few months, I have said those three little words. I have said, to my friends, “I love you.” Our friendship was formed, based on my highest values; and I honestly, passionately love them.
Therefore, I have extended invitation to these girls, forming a panel of Contributing Writers to NicoleAndGwendolyn.com. They embody my highest values, and their riveting stories shall assist me with creating emotional entry into readers, catalysing discussion which shall affect a greater percentage of our population, growing a quality readership.
Relevant to our Mafia, my contributing writers shall discuss eating, exercising, dieting, alcohol, husbands, boyfriends, family, friends, shopping, dogs, etcetera! “What did you change about your diet this week? How are you losing that Christmas fat? Tell me about your orgasms! Do they exist when you are bingeing and purging?” These are questions which I have posed to my fabulous girls.
These future contributions are relevant to NicoleAndGwendolyn.com because they shall be written by persons who exist with food complications. Whether it be a former state of Anorexia/Bulimia/Bingeing; a present state of inhibiting the ‘demon’; a present state of just getting by; or just a state of heightened awareness, I have deemed their characters as matching to NicoleAndGwendolyn.com‘s flavour. Their stories and viewpoints are certainly different; but they are passionate about affecting our world.
And I love them.
Who do you love?
© Nicole Marie Story Enterprises, LLC and nicoleandgwendolyn.com, 2011 – 2013.